easy as breathing
by thelittlefanpire
Summary: "Easy with the wobbling! Keep your feet still!" he called over his shoulder as they began to pick up speed. "They are!" Hermione shouted back at him. "You're not! You're dancing around on the board like a clown! Hang on tight." A Dramione Venice Beach AU based on those skateboarding posts.


**easy as breathing : a dramione venice beach au**

oh hey! this is completely unedited and my very first Dramione fic. I stayed up until half past three in the morning writing this so, be kind! dedicated to all the Dramione fics i've read in the past. ilysm. thank you, Harry Potter. you are the gift that keeps on giving. and to my bellarke babies: i've left some love notes to you. can you find them?

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On the eve of the tenth anniversary of the Second Wizarding War, Hermione Granger found herself stepping off a plane in Los Angeles, California. Her ears were still ringing and refused to pop completely, much to her annoyance. And her head was swimming from the aeroplane's slow descent over the mountain range into LA. She shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun, a sharp contrast from the dreary and muggy London, she had left behind that morning.

If only she had visited the States before, she might have apparated there. Or if she had a better address, she might have used the Floo Network. Or a portkey. It would have saved her a lot of time and money.

But over twelve hours and three hundred British Pounds later, Hermione tried to pop her ears again outside the LAX Airport, before sticking her small purse under her arm to wave down an approaching muggle cab.

"Venice Beach," she told the cab driver when he had stopped and she slid into the backseat quickly.

It was a short drive from the airport to the beach. The cabby let her off at the Venice Beach Boardwalk. She tried to give him as many muggle dollars as she could before he drove away.

She turned towards the sound of crashing waves and the sweet salt air. The beach was crowded for a Thursday afternoon in the middle of Spring.

It was definitely warm enough out there and she was glad to have on a light, white blouse and black cotton trousers. It was the leftovers of the business suit she wore under her Wizarding robes. She wanted so badly to stick her feet in the icy, cold of the Pacific Ocean, but first, she needed to find _him_.

Hermione had been corresponding, with none other than Draco Malfoy for the last several months. Or at least she had been until her last two owls had returned with no reply.

It took her a few days to track him down. It wasn't easy to find a wizard who didn't want to be found.

As she walked down the busy boardwalk, she found him.

Between street vendors and performers, Draco stood out from a small crowd. He was strumming a ukulele and singing a muggle song Hermione didn't recognize.

She hardly recognized the man before her, too. All traces of the boy she went to school with were long gone. His bright blond hair was longer and darker. He had a soft stubble covering his chin and cheeks. With shorts and the sleeves cut off of his white t-shirt, Draco looked right at home in this strange beach town. He leaned casually against the concrete barrier, between the boardwalk and the beach, and rolled a longboard under his left foot as he played.

The small crowd dispersed shortly after he finished his last song and Hermione slowly approached him throwing down a gold galleon into the hat by Draco's feet. The glint of gold caught Draco's eye and he looked up in surprise.

"Merlin's beard, Granger. How did you find me?" Draco exclaimed. He picked up his hat from the ground, pocketed the money in it, and placed the hat on his head.

Hermione chuckled at him and said cryptically, "Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer, the secret of redemption lies in remembrance."

"Oh, is that why you've come here? To spout wisdom like Dumble—" Draco stops himself and then continues, "The night before the anniversary? It'll be ten years tomorrow, Granger. I haven't forgotten."

"I'm here about the runes, Malfoy. You weren't answering my owls," Hermione huffed in frustration, ignoring his last comments.

"You could have just telephoned me, you know?"

"Ron's still got an aversion to some Muggle technologies, I'm afraid, so we don't have a house phone."

Hermione fiddled with the gold band around her ring finger. She had told her husband that she had official business to take care of for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was new to that Department and was still getting a feel of things, so Ron didn't question her when she said she would be away for the weekend.

The date had truly escaped her though.

"The runes, Malfoy!" Hermione put out her hands to him like the translations were going to just magically fall into her outstretched fingers.

Hermione had been translating the Tales of Beedle the Bard for the last year or so. The ancient runes had kept her mind busy after her daughter, Rose was born. She had been stumped by the last few odd pages six months ago.

Which led her to send an owl to Hogwarts asking Professor McGonagall for help and McGonagall had, in turn, led her to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was surprised to hear that the Slytherin had taken Ancient Runes as well. Gryffindor and Slytherin never seemed to have that class together when Hermione and Draco were in school together, so Hermione didn't know that he, too, had received his O.W.L.S. in the subject.

They were down to the last page that needed to be translated before Draco had disappeared. Hermione probably could have finished the translations herself, but here she was now standing in Venice Beach, California the day before the second of May.

Draco knew as well as Hermione that she could translate the runes on her own, but he doesn't say so.

Instead, Draco dropped the longboard from his hand. The wheels of the skateboard hit the hard pavement with a thud. He swung the strap of the ukulele over his head and slide the small instrument around to his back.

"Come on. Let me show you around. Have you seen anything yet?" Draco asked her as he mounts his board. He continued to ignore her desperation for the translations.

"Besides the airport and you? No," Hermione responded, giving in she began to walk beside him as he rode down the boardwalk slowly.

"Hmm, not much left then, is it?" He joked cockily.

After a twelve hour flight from Heathrow to LAX, it felt good to Hermione to finally stretch out her legs. She walked in silence beside Draco taking everything in.

The boardwalk was bustling with eclectic and vibrant characters. Girls on roller skates and couples on tandem bikes whizzed past them. Music blared from all corners of the street as they trailed farther down the boardwalk. Hermione gawked at Muscle Beach, an outdoor gym filled with overly tanned men in too-tight workout gear.

Draco rolled his eyes at her and nudged her toward the direction of the sandy beach and the Venice Skatepark.

Sitting right on the beach under palm trees, the park had two large bowls entwined with a snake run and plenty of rails and steps to fulfil any skateboarder's dreams.

Draco flipped is board up and balanced his weight upon it as he watched the cadence of boards scraping against concrete before they rose up into the air.

"It feels like flying," Draco whispered leaning toward Hermione. She teetered on the edge of a step, being thrown by the intimacy of Draco standing so close to her. His hand flew out instinctively to help steady her.

"Easy, Granger. Have you had anything to eat today?"

Hermione shook her head at him. The last thing she remembered eating was some disgusting aeroplane food over the Atlantic Ocean and a bag of peanuts.

The street tacos Draco procured for them, back on the boardwalk, were delicious. Hermione devoured both of hers before Draco could sit down comfortably in the sand beside her. He didn't even tease her but handed her a large Styrofoam cup. She gulped down the silky beverage, that Draco had called Horchata, it tasted like milk and cinnamon.

"I can see why you left Malfoy Manor and came here," Hermione finally spoke, looking out at the ocean. The foamy waves crashed down onto the wet, golden sand. The sun had begun to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in violet and burgundy. Huge clouds billowed over the palm trees that were scattered to the east behind them.

The sunset made Hermione want to weep.

"It's as easy as breathing again," Draco said simply. He set down his plate of food and turned his whole body towards her. He gently placed his hands on top of her hands and she looked away from the sky meeting his grey eyes.

In the letters, Hermione and Draco had sent one another, Hermione had gathered that Draco spent most, if not all, of his time at Malfoy Manor. He had charged himself with combing through every Dark artefact he could find in his childhood home. And then he placed those artefacts in magic-protected cases, never to be used.

His self-isolation was partly in shame and partly in plain cowardice, Hermione thought. It had been ten years to the day after next since Draco Malfoy had stood on the wrong side of the War. And he had every day since, proved himself to no longer be a part of the Death Eaters or a follower of Lord Voldemort. In her eyes, he had earned forgiveness.

Hermione looked down at their joined hands and up to Draco's forearm. The Dark Mark had faded to no more than a deep, dark scar. It marred the flesh like a wound.

Hermione had no visible wounds to speak of, but as a tear slipped down her cheek and onto Draco's arm, he unclasped their hands and cupped her face.

"I know you didn't fly all the way across the world for some old runes, Ducky," said Draco affectionately, calling her out. Hermione sucked in a big breath and sniffled loudly before following with a hollow chuckle.

"And did you cut your own hair?" Draco asked. His hand went up to the side of her face and pulled on a piece of her brown locks. The fringe, Hermione had indeed cut herself, which was way too short, was curling up even higher from the humidity of the beach. She had finally perfected a hair smoothing potion, but it was no match for her unruly mane against the cool, damp ocean breeze filling the air around her tonight.

"Rosie spilt some Flobberworm mucus all over me when I was trying to thicken a potion. So I had to chop it off," Hermione explained.

"Flobberworms. Nasty little bastards," Draco shuddered and Hermione laughed. Both thinking back to their third year at Hogwarts when Hagrid had them babysitting the creatures during his Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Is she good? Your little girl?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, she's perfect. And she's two now. How's Scorpius?"

"Wild as a werewolf, he is! He keeps Astoria on her toes all day. Spitting image of a Malfoy, though," Draco boasted about his son proudly.

"Rose looks just like a Weasley. So much red hair!" Hermione laughed again.

She had never met Draco's son or him her daughter. They had shared a few pictures through their letters. Hermione had seen the photos of his wedding to Astoria Greengrass in the Daily Prophet a few years back. And she was sure he saw her wedding photos to Ron there too.

"How does Weaselbee like his job as an Auror? Potter and him ridding the world of baddies one pureblood at a time?"

It's Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. Those two men couldn't be more in their element as Aurors.

"Harry's Head of the Department now. They're both insufferable," she quipped.

"And you?" It was a loaded question Draco asked and it made Hermione pause.

Did Hermione like her new position in Magical Law Enforcement? A place she never expected to be. Did she enjoy every moment of motherhood? Of her marriage?

After two years, she finally felt like her head was above the water and she could tread at it at a steady pace again. Raising a child wasn't the easiest thing. And it didn't come as naturally to Hermione as she had hoped.

And her and Ron, well, they'd been married long enough to weather through the storms and hard times, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder if maybe, they were too young when they had rushed to the altar.

She didn't say any of this to Draco sitting beside her now as they watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean.

She just said, "I feel like I can't breathe there, either."

Draco pulled away from her and stood to his feet. He reached out his arms for her.

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked perplexed by his sudden movements but reaching up to him and letting him pull her up off the ground anyway.

"Come on, Granger. I'm going to teach you how to breathe again."

They walked hand-in-hand back to the boardwalk. Draco removed his hat and handed it over to her. She slid it on backwards and then stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

"Real cute. Now, stand behind me," Draco commanded as he stepped up on his longboard. Hermione did as she was told and Draco put one foot down on the ground.

She gripped his sides tightly feeling her body sway with the movement of the skateboard. She closed her eyes in fright.

"Easy with the wobbling! Keep your feet still!" he called over his shoulder as they began to pick up speed.

"They are!" Hermione shouted back at him.

"You're not! You're dancing around on the board like a clown! Hang on tight."

Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around Draco and forced her eyes back open. The wind whipped her hair around under Draco's hat as they passed the street vendors and performers of the Venice Beach Boardwalk.

Zooming through the crowd and weaving along the beach, skateboarding felt a lot like flying on a broomstick. Something she had always been deathly afraid of. But with her chin tucked up on Draco's shoulder, the bright street lamps beginning to light up the night, and the fresh salt air hitting her face, Hermione took a deep, deep breath and she wasn't afraid. She could breathe again.

Her eyes were wide open and her lungs filled with cool, crisp air. She let out a whoop and a laugh. And she could fill Draco's chest rumbling with laughter at her, too.

At the end of the boardwalk, Draco carefully pulled out his wand that he had tucked away in his back pocket. The boardwalk was coming to end and Draco jumped up on the sidewalk heading towards the lifeguard tower and the deep blue ocean.

Hermione squealed as Draco said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The longboard flew into the air propelled by the magical words Draco spoke, over the concrete barrier and the cooling sand. The board rose over the top of the lifeguard tower and then back down hovering above the water.

The sun hung low in the sky, large and the colour of a tangerine. And the water underneath them was as smooth as glass for as far as Hermione's eyes could see. Tiny ripples lapped up under the board and the breeze blew sea foam back at them. Hermione steadied her breathing, winded from the unexpected flight.

"How did you find this place, Draco?" Hermione asked mesmerized by the sight before her, a sigh leaving her lips quietly.

Draco heard her sigh and he spun the board around and coasted back to the shoreline.

"Hermione," Draco whispered. They had stepped off the longboard and stood at the edge of the ocean facing one another. Hermione leaned in closer to him when he spoke her name.

"I didn't want to be alone tonight," Hermione whispered back, answering his question from earlier.

Draco lifted his hand to her face slowly. His fingers skimmed her soft and supple lips. Hermione shivered under his touch. The sky had gone dark as the sun went to sleep under the horizon. The moon hid behind the clouds, but it was just light enough for Hermione to see the glistening of tears in Draco's grey eyes.

She wanted him to close the distance between them, but he had let his hand drop to his side and stood there silently. She placed both of her hands on his chest, feeling the racing of his heart under her fingertips. And she arched up on her toes, stretching the last few centimetres to meet his lips with hers.

Draco Malfoy was the only person in the world who understood Hermione Granger, even better than she understood herself. In the ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts, they had only recently, in the last six months, been in touch with one another.

The letters were innocent at first. Hermione had tried to convince Draco to help her decipher the runes from the book Albus Dumbledore had left in her possession. She sent him the first edition copy so he could see it for himself.

Reluctantly, Draco eventually agreed to help. Tired of the conundrums of Dark artefacts, he decided to take her up on her request.

They passed the book back and forth between each other, writing letters, and sometimes meeting in Muggle cafés in London to discuss difficult translations. The letters they wrote slowly began to contain more casual conversations than talk of Ancient Runes and their café meetups were more for the pleasure of the other's company than business.

Draco knew the final page of the book had been translated and was lying on the desk in his flat here in Venice Beach. He had carried it with him from Malfoy Manor and across the sea to this oasis.

He knew Hermione and himself were both drowning in the Wizarding World back home. He had escaped over the years to far off places, but Venice had felt most like home. And he had hoped Hermione would follow him there.

It was a place where he wasn't known as a pureblood. A place where Hermione wouldn't be seen as a mudblood. Where the flashing cameras of the Daily Prophet couldn't reach them and spread their foul gossip. It was a place away from painful memories and haunting ghosts.

Hermione might have feigned ignorance over the significance of tomorrow's date, but Draco knew.

Draco knew of his betrayals and his failures. He knew of the losses that were suffered from the hands of his family and comrades. From his hands.

Draco looked down at his hands that were hanging limply at Hermione's side. He was afraid to touch her now. To touch her with the hands that had thrown unforgivable curses at her friends. To kiss her with the mouth that had spilt out vile and hateful words.

As much as he wanted her here with him, she didn't belong. She was too good for him. The brightest witch of her age. Hermione Granger.

His heart raced under her fingertips as the tears gathered in the corner of his eyes.

Could he tell her to leave? Could he make her go home? Home to her husband. Her daughter. To the life, she had chosen to live.

Draco had run away from his home. Like a coward. Even when he was home he wasn't really there. Tucked away in a library pouring over old alchemy manuscripts. Trying to find a way to make up for the things he had done in the past.

But Draco couldn't change the past. All had he was now.

Hermione had pushed back her chopped fringe into the Snapback hat. Dark eyeliner smudged around her eyes and freckles popped out all over the bridge of her nose from the California sun that Draco had never noticed she had before now.

 _Now._

Before his mind could catch up to his body to stop him, Draco leaned down to meet Hermione for a kiss. They weren't as good at words in person as they were on paper, but their kiss said everything the other needed to hear.

Hermione followed him back to his flat. As they stood awkwardly in the foyer of his apartment, she noticed the small picture of Astoria and Scorpius in a frame on the mantle. Her fingers found the locket around her neck that held the tiny pictures of Ron and Rose.

She gave Draco a tight smile as he bolted the door.

They spent the night entangled in each other's arms. Draco breathed in the sweet scent of Hermione's perfume as she traced the scars on his body carefully. And they held each other into the early morning of May 2nd, 2008. With sobs wrecking both their bodies, they mourned the dead.

And when Draco rose the next day the translated runes and the former Gryffindor were gone.

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 **thanks for reading! i would love to hear your thoughts on this! what you loved and/or hated.**


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